each new baby

My new baby sleeps with me off and on during the night. It's not like a lifestyle or a philosophy or anything. He just sleeps with me sometimes. He lays his head against my breast after he is done nursing. Sometimes I put him back in his own bed. And sometimes I keep him right by my heart.

I understand why people have lots of babies. I feel like maybe a heart is an onion. Each new child pulls another layer away. And you could keep pulling layer after layer. Just to see what is underneath. Just to see more of what is inside.

5 years, a day at a time

In honor of my 32nd birthday I began writing in a five year journal. My grandma gave me one of these when I turned 18 and I kept it off and on. The space to write was so small, so it was a place I recorded the simple acts of the day.  A movie with my boyfriend. A fight with my mom. Homework. Just the facts mostly, with a touch of perspective. After I had kept this practice for a few years I could see all my August 26ths all lined up. I could see how they were different, and the same. How the simple act of living my ordinary life became so wonderful to read over time. After I grew up a bit I threw out much of my writing. I threw it out in embarrassment. But not the five year journal, kept off and on from 18 to 22. It was the most honest of all the writing I had done.

I began this blog when my daughter was just born. I had these big feelings, I had a story I felt I knew how to tell. My daughter got a loud public display. My son gets a small book. A quiet daily story of loads of laundry, the day his smile grew wide, a small note to remind me of how on August 27th 2012 I  thought of him all day.

the anniversary of a day I did right

The traditional gift of the sixth anniversary of my marriage is acceptance. It is a squint across this hard life to see the peace that is always there. It is the blurring of the edges between you and me.

It's accepting this promise wasn't a minor detail. It is a powerful, terrible, magical promise to walk with you to the end. 

Brian, the day I fell in with you was a day I did right. 

nothing to do but enjoy

This could become a place where I turn in baby pictures and thoughtful quotes from Ramona. If it did, I wouldn't blame me. Two kids is probably hard. I'm not sure though, because I thought things were hard before. And now I see they were so easy. So it makes me think this is probably easy too, only I don't realize it yet. So, I'm not taking things too seriously anymore. Because obviously I know nothing. 

Ramona does, though. 

"Mama, don't take Baby Elwood away. I'm enjoying him." 

what babies do, according to ramona

"babies like to lay in beds and dream and relax"

mother brain

I have written things. And not published. I have thought things. And forgotten them. My new baby makes me so sleepy.

My therapist might ask, Nova are you doing ok? And I might say no, but it doesn't matter. Yes, but it can change. I can't remember who I am from one second to the next. Sad, then happy. Mad, then I can forgive. An Arm Full of Children can go from burden to joy in seconds. Back to pain, and a step to bliss.

Who cares about questions anyway? All I know is love. I have a sweet baby boy. And I love his peaceful face.

cured

The first days home with the new baby, with my broken heart all over the place, I couldn't get close to Ramona. It was happening all over again. The choking sadness. And somehow my little girl got caught up in it again. How? How? I couldn't get close to her and her behavior pushed me further away. I asked her to eat a real dinner, she cried hard, I scooped her up and held her tight. It was happening again. My life suddenly changed. And there was Ramona, somehow caught up in it again.

Last night I was putting her to bed. Putting her to bed even though my body was tired. Putting her to bed even though I had a baby to nurse. Putting her to bed to win her back and soothe our hearts. As I helped her into her pajamas and covered her up, sang her a song and played with her hair, my mind went back to the place where I was constantly saying goodbye to her.

The night Elwood was born, I was putting Ramona to bed right before my water broke. I gave her a bath and tucked her in because I had a feeling. A feeling her brother was coming and I would soon be separated from my little girl. I had never been away from her for so long, and knew when I came home everything would be different. In the weeks prior to Elwood's birth I was saying goodbye to Ramona constantly. Hanging on to her tight. Feeling the impending change with fright.

But last night as I tucked my Ramona in, as I started to go back to that place where I hang on and I say goodbye, I stopped myself. There is no goodbye needed. There is no goodbye. We made it. I'm home. We are all home. We have endless nights together. We have countless tries to make it right and good. And in that moment I forgave myself for all of it.